18 November 2016

I'm super excited to announce the latest in the Red Petticoat Saloon series today - Diamond In The Rough - a collaboration between two of my favourite authors in the genre; Abbie Adams and Maggie Ryan. And what a gorgeous cover!

The Blurb:

Marshal Tripp Houston makes his own luck and doesn’t believe in chance—until Lady Luck smiles up at him with her cat-like green eyes. If it’s the last thing he does, Tripp is dead set on bringing down the vile Shotgun Slick Gang. It’s been said that the outlaws have a woman traveling with them. Tripp is almost certain that woman is Diamond, especially with her sneaking around and asking lots of questions. But, if he’s wrong, and she is the innocent she proclaims, then once every last slimy one of the gang are swinging from a tree, he plans to hand in his tin star and settle down with the little card-dealing gem who ran away with not only his horse, but his heart as well. After all, he knows just how to tame a feisty gem.

Diamond won’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to those bossy men of Culpepper Cove standing in the way of finding her sister Damaris—not even when it means she will end up with a hot, achy backside over the knee of one very stubborn lawman. The trail she’d been following for months led her to Culpepper Cove and The Red Petticoat Saloon where she entertains the men while dealing blackjack and sifting through their conversations for information that will help her find Damaris—but she doesn’t go upstairs. That is until the night she makes a silly bet, (it had worked for Jewel, hadn’t it?) and ends up falling for the man who tried her patience at every turn. Will the bet cost more than her virginity? She hadn’t wagered her heart, but she may very well have lost it to him already.

This fantastic addition to the hot Western series is available now in all the usual outlets:

That fear at least was quelled when
the marshal held the door open to her and then promptly locked it behind
himself. They were alone in the room. She stood frozen, looking at the empty
tubs in the center of the room.

"Go ahead and undress while I
fill the tub." The man walked right by her. She couldn't believe he
expected her to just disrobe. Then she remembered that though there was no
concealing wall or even a curtain between the two tubs, there was a privacy
screen in one corner. She forced herself not to run towards it though she was
suddenly desperate to hide behind its concealment.

"Oh, no, ladybug. You will be
naked before me, so there is no reason for you to hide yourself over there. You
can just strip right where you are."

She glared at him as mortification
filled every part of her being. He was bent on shaming her. This wasn't just
some conquest or a prize won and savored. He meant to humiliate her. She turned
away from him and her fingers came to the buttons at her neck with trepidation
at first. Then slowly as she made it down the row, her irritation built until
she stood tall and proud. She would not cower before him or allow herself to be
shamed. She was a beautiful, independent woman. She would not let him know how
much he affected her.

She stalled only a moment more
before pulling her dress from her shoulders. It slid down her sides and landed
in a puddle at her feet. Delaney felt naked already and she still had her
chemise and petticoat before she even got to her… unmentionables. She peeked
back at him as he carried one of the buckets of water that had been heating
over the fire to the nearest iron tub. Heat flushed her face when she met his
eyes. He was still watching her even though he was pouring the water.

"Keep going, I want you
naked," he said, returning to the fire for the next pail.

I'm super excited to announce the latest in the Red Petticoat Saloon series today - Diamond In The Rough - a collaboration between two of my favourite authors in the genre; Abbie Adams and Maggie Ryan. And what a gorgeous cover!

The Blurb:

Marshal Tripp Houston makes his own luck and doesn’t believe in chance—until Lady Luck smiles up at him with her cat-like green eyes. If it’s the last thing he does, Tripp is dead set on bringing down the vile Shotgun Slick Gang. It’s been said that the outlaws have a woman traveling with them. Tripp is almost certain that woman is Diamond, especially with her sneaking around and asking lots of questions. But, if he’s wrong, and she is the innocent she proclaims, then once every last slimy one of the gang are swinging from a tree, he plans to hand in his tin star and settle down with the little card-dealing gem who ran away with not only his horse, but his heart as well. After all, he knows just how to tame a feisty gem.

Diamond won’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to those bossy men of Culpepper Cove standing in the way of finding her sister Damaris—not even when it means she will end up with a hot, achy backside over the knee of one very stubborn lawman. The trail she’d been following for months led her to Culpepper Cove and The Red Petticoat Saloon where she entertains the men while dealing blackjack and sifting through their conversations for information that will help her find Damaris—but she doesn’t go upstairs. That is until the night she makes a silly bet, (it had worked for Jewel, hadn’t it?) and ends up falling for the man who tried her patience at every turn. Will the bet cost more than her virginity? She hadn’t wagered her heart, but she may very well have lost it to him already.

This fantastic addition to the hot Western series is available now in all the usual outlets:

That fear at least was quelled when
the marshal held the door open to her and then promptly locked it behind
himself. They were alone in the room. She stood frozen, looking at the empty
tubs in the center of the room.

"Go ahead and undress while I
fill the tub." The man walked right by her. She couldn't believe he
expected her to just disrobe. Then she remembered that though there was no
concealing wall or even a curtain between the two tubs, there was a privacy
screen in one corner. She forced herself not to run towards it though she was
suddenly desperate to hide behind its concealment.

"Oh, no, ladybug. You will be
naked before me, so there is no reason for you to hide yourself over there. You
can just strip right where you are."

She glared at him as mortification
filled every part of her being. He was bent on shaming her. This wasn't just
some conquest or a prize won and savored. He meant to humiliate her. She turned
away from him and her fingers came to the buttons at her neck with trepidation
at first. Then slowly as she made it down the row, her irritation built until
she stood tall and proud. She would not cower before him or allow herself to be
shamed. She was a beautiful, independent woman. She would not let him know how
much he affected her.

She stalled only a moment more
before pulling her dress from her shoulders. It slid down her sides and landed
in a puddle at her feet. Delaney felt naked already and she still had her
chemise and petticoat before she even got to her… unmentionables. She peeked
back at him as he carried one of the buckets of water that had been heating
over the fire to the nearest iron tub. Heat flushed her face when she met his
eyes. He was still watching her even though he was pouring the water.

"Keep going, I want you
naked," he said, returning to the fire for the next pail.

I'm super excited to announce the latest in the Red Petticoat Saloon series today - Diamond In The Rough - a collaboration between two of my favourite authors in the genre; Abbie Adams and Maggie Ryan. And what a gorgeous cover!

The Blurb:

Marshal Tripp Houston makes his own luck and doesn’t believe in chance—until Lady Luck smiles up at him with her cat-like green eyes. If it’s the last thing he does, Tripp is dead set on bringing down the vile Shotgun Slick Gang. It’s been said that the outlaws have a woman traveling with them. Tripp is almost certain that woman is Diamond, especially with her sneaking around and asking lots of questions. But, if he’s wrong, and she is the innocent she proclaims, then once every last slimy one of the gang are swinging from a tree, he plans to hand in his tin star and settle down with the little card-dealing gem who ran away with not only his horse, but his heart as well. After all, he knows just how to tame a feisty gem.

Diamond won’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to those bossy men of Culpepper Cove standing in the way of finding her sister Damaris—not even when it means she will end up with a hot, achy backside over the knee of one very stubborn lawman. The trail she’d been following for months led her to Culpepper Cove and The Red Petticoat Saloon where she entertains the men while dealing blackjack and sifting through their conversations for information that will help her find Damaris—but she doesn’t go upstairs. That is until the night she makes a silly bet, (it had worked for Jewel, hadn’t it?) and ends up falling for the man who tried her patience at every turn. Will the bet cost more than her virginity? She hadn’t wagered her heart, but she may very well have lost it to him already.

This fantastic addition to the hot Western series is available now in all the usual outlets:

That fear at least was quelled when
the marshal held the door open to her and then promptly locked it behind
himself. They were alone in the room. She stood frozen, looking at the empty
tubs in the center of the room.

"Go ahead and undress while I
fill the tub." The man walked right by her. She couldn't believe he
expected her to just disrobe. Then she remembered that though there was no
concealing wall or even a curtain between the two tubs, there was a privacy
screen in one corner. She forced herself not to run towards it though she was
suddenly desperate to hide behind its concealment.

"Oh, no, ladybug. You will be
naked before me, so there is no reason for you to hide yourself over there. You
can just strip right where you are."

She glared at him as mortification
filled every part of her being. He was bent on shaming her. This wasn't just
some conquest or a prize won and savored. He meant to humiliate her. She turned
away from him and her fingers came to the buttons at her neck with trepidation
at first. Then slowly as she made it down the row, her irritation built until
she stood tall and proud. She would not cower before him or allow herself to be
shamed. She was a beautiful, independent woman. She would not let him know how
much he affected her.

She stalled only a moment more
before pulling her dress from her shoulders. It slid down her sides and landed
in a puddle at her feet. Delaney felt naked already and she still had her
chemise and petticoat before she even got to her… unmentionables. She peeked
back at him as he carried one of the buckets of water that had been heating
over the fire to the nearest iron tub. Heat flushed her face when she met his
eyes. He was still watching her even though he was pouring the water.

"Keep going, I want you
naked," he said, returning to the fire for the next pail.

20 September 2016

I'm delighted today to be promoting the recently released dark tale Snatched, by the immensely talented Juliette Banks. Without further ado, let's go straight to the blurb:Loss. Passion. Sacrifice.

It's the worst day of Laryssa's life when bandits
snatch her beloved daughter Sofiya, carrying her away to places unknown. Vowing
to save her, come what may, Laryssa sets off on a long and difficult journey to
find the eighteen-year-old.

When she stumbles across a half ruined castle in the
middle of a forest, she realizes she's found the very place where Sofiya is
being held by four men. In desperation, Laryssa begs to be allowed to stay with
them, to cook and clean, and even offers her body for use to the leader of the
gang, a man called Bhodan. Not knowing who she really is, he grudgingly
accepts.

Bhodan is a dark man with a troubled past. With livid
scars marring his otherwise handsome features, he is gruff, ruthless, and cold.
Somehow Laryssa, the woman he has employed to cook and clean for himself and
his men, and to service him sexually whenever he desires it, manages to see
past his harsh exterior. Her growing attraction to him is undeniable, and no
one is more surprised than Bhodan himself to discover that he is beginning to
reciprocate those feelings.

Sofiya is not the only girl to have been captured by
the gang; Hanna, a girl close to her in age, was already being held when Sofiya
arrived. Laryssa is desperate to rescue them both, but knows she must bide her
time until the moment is right.

When the four men decide to leave the women alone to
go thieving, Laryssa sees her chance. However, she is unprepared for the
emotional dilemma she will face when only one of the men – Bhodan – returns. He
is badly wounded, and she finds herself unable to leave him alone, as he will
undoubtedly die.

Torn between the love of her daughter and the passion
Bhodan has awakened in her, Laryssa faces a tough choice. Should she send
Sofiya and Hanna back to their village alone to face their demons, or should
she accompany them and risk losing what could well be her last chance of
experiencing boundless passion and love after years spent alone? Can she
forgive Bhodan for what he has done in the past, or will she decide that her
daughter's happiness is more important than her own?

Publisher's Note: This tale, set in Eastern Europe in
the mid 19th century, is one of passion, sacrifice and hope, in an age where
poverty made life a daily struggle to survive. It contains some explicit sexual
scenes, including spanking, as well as erotic horror themes. If such material
is likely to offend you, please do not purchase this book.

NOTE: This is a
newly edited and greatly revised and expanded version of a book previously
released under the same title.

Excerpt:

She was
fairly certain that as long as she kept them content with her cooking, and
Bhodan content in his bed, the men would allow her to stay until she had worked
out a way of getting them all safely away from this place.

That
night, Bhodan came for her again, but did not repeat the rough treatment of
their last coupling. This time, he paused at the kitchen door and watched her
combing her long hair, which she normally put up into a bun during the day. The
anger and aggression previously in his face and demeanor had gone.

"Come.
I want you."

He
wondered why, after just a short time, this woman was getting inside his head.
Throughout most of his life, he had been careful to allow no one to penetrate
the armor-plated exterior he had so carefully constructed. There had been many
women over the years, and Laryssa was just one more. And yet, there was
something about her, an indefinable 'something' that drew him to her. He liked
her calmness, her bearing, her soft voice and, yes, her body, which responded
so well to his touch, and which set his own body alight in ways he found
unfamiliar and strange.

Laryssa
followed him and, despite herself, couldn't help a shiver of expectation pass
through her body, the traitorous body that had been reawakened after its long
slumber. Why was this man able to make her feel truly alive for the first time
in her life? Even though she felt anger about being beaten the previous day,
she was ashamed to admit to herself that there was a small part of her that had
found the experience exciting.

"Take
off your clothes." She did as she was told, feeling a tremble in her
belly, not of fear, but of anticipation. "Turn around." She turned
slowly, and Bhodan walked towards her and ran his hand down her back, and over
the bottom he had so harshly beaten the day before. He was checking to see
whether she still bore the marks. The bruising had faded somewhat, and there
was no permanent scarring. He was relieved.

He
pulled her backwards so her back rested against his chest, and ran his hands over
her breasts before moving one hand slowly and gently down over her belly and
over the lips of her sex.

Laryssa
took a sharp breath as his fingers began to explore her moist, hidden parts,
swirling around her clitoris until she longed for him to enter her. This man,
with just a touch, was able to light a fire within her that she had never
experienced before.

He bit
her earlobe, and when he spoke, his voice was husky with desire. "Such a
sweet body. No wonder the other women drove you away. They must have been
afraid that their husbands would push you up against a tree to gain access to
this hot little cunt whenever their backs were turned."

***

Want to know more about Juliette Banks? You can contact her at any of these places:

17 September 2016

Five husbands; one Possessed Pearl. When Pearl starts working as a gem at The Red Petticoat Saloon, she knows she's found the place where she belongs. After all, her husband cast her out for being too lusty of a wife. She quickly comes to enjoy her clients, especially her five constant regulars, so much so, that when one of her regulars proposes marriage, she declines. How can one man satisfy her? Things change when all five of her regulars come to her with a marriage proposal—live with them as a bride to five husbands. Can Pearl face her fear of marriage and allow herself to be claimed by not one man, but five?

Here's an excerpt...

Are you wet now?” Cash asked in a tone that warned me to tell the truth.

“Yes,” I whispered, my cheeks staining with shame. Sitting in Cash’s lap, two men’s hands stroking up and down my legs, I was primed and ready for a long, hard fuck.

“If I told you we were going to tie you up, and use you the way we did that first night, would that excite you?”

My throat clogged before I could answer, but he added, “Be honest, Pearl, or I’ll turn you over my knee right now and spank you.”

“You’ll spend the night with us,” Cash said. He cupped my chin so he was sure of my attention. Of course, I would’ve agreed to anything at that point.

“We’ll have one last night to enjoy your body and give you pleasure. If you truly don’t want us, we’ll take you back.” His voice deepened. “Of course, we’ll know if you’re lying. And lying means you’ll be punished.”

11 September 2016

Book 6 in The Red Petticoat Saloon Series is brought to us by the lovely Alta Hensley...Sickly. A whore. On her own.That is how Della would describe herself, or did until she became a gem at The Red Petticoat Saloon. Still sickly, and still a whore, at least she wasn’t on her own any longer. She had become Citrine, one of Jewel’s gems, and she wore the name proudly.It wasn’t until she became deathly ill that she realized just how much people truly cared about her. She had her friends at The Red Petticoat, and she soon had the care of the town doctor—Dr. Anson Norwood.Dr. Norwood promises her that he will fix all that is wrong with his patient and treat her like the gem she truly is. But will the shadows of her past, as well as the ones of Anson Norwood, get in the way? Can she allow the good doctor to fully care for his Citrine?

Fancy a hot little snippet? Read on!

He pointed to her bed. “Bend
over the bed, petticoat up, bare your behind.” His expression, his tone, his
entire presence meant business. He was the disciplinarian sent to do a job.
She’d known that the minute he led her upstairs.

“Gabriel, please. I will crawl
in bed like a good girl. You don’t need to spank me.” It really was pointless
trying to plead with him. All the gems knew that when Mr. Gabe had his mind set
on something, no amount of pleading or arguing would get you out your
predicament.

“You should have done that
before. Now hurry along. It’s getting crowded downstairs, and I need to be
there in case it gets rowdy.” When she didn’t move, he nodded toward the bed.
“Come on, Della. You know you did this to yourself.”

Silently admitting defeat, she sighed
and walked toward the bed. Staring at her floral quilt, she did as he asked,
feeling the cool air against her bottom as she lowered her drawers and bent
over the bed with her red petticoat flaring out around her. Her face heated
with embarrassment. Gabriel had punished her before several times, and he had
definitely seen her bare behind, but she still couldn’t help feel the shame of
having to be thrashed like a naughty school child.

She cringed when she heard the
swoosh of the leather strap being removed from his pants. Gabriel wasn’t one to
go easy. When he was asked to deliver a punishment, it was always worse than if
he decided to do it himself. Often enough, Della had heard the sound of leather
striking naughty behinds of the gems and their cries, and she really did try
her best to avoid such a wrath from Gabriel.

“Before I tan your backside, I
want to make sure you understand why I am giving you this lickin’. Do you?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled against
her mattress. “I was given strict instructions from Madame Jewel and Miss
Nettie, and I didn’t follow them.”

The first lash of the leather
cracked against her flesh without mercy. Della bit down against the pain and
balled the petticoat into her fists to fight the urge to cry out. But when the
second and then third whip of the leather made contact, she couldn’t hold back
from crying out.

“Ow! Oh, I’m so sorry!” If there
was ever a time to start coughing, it would be now. Maybe if she had another
coughing spell, he would go lightly on her. But her cough had decided to betray
her and remain deep within her chest.

“Stick out your bottom,” was his
only response.

She did so and was only rewarded
with another, and then another whip of the unforgiving leather. The spanking
continued on as Della cried out. Tears ran down her face as her bottom heated
to an inferno.

“Naughty gems get spanked. You
know this, Citrine.” Gabriel only called her by her gem name ‘Citrine’ when she
was on the floor or getting punished. All it took was him calling her Citrine
in a warning voice to have her stop whatever she was doing right then and
there. She loved Gabriel, but he was not one to disobey. The ass whoopin’ she
was receiving this very moment reaffirmed that belief.

9 September 2016

A little while ago, I mentioned on Facebook that my Sir, Mr. B., had written a filthy short story - albeit in German, his native language. I wanted to know whether, if I translated it into English, anyone would want to read it. The response was a resounding, overwhelming yes. And so, here it is, in its entirety. I should warn you that Mr. B. is a dark, dark man (one of the many reasons why I adore him so much) - and so this story does contain possible triggers: humiliation, face slapping, and forced exhibitionism. But if you like dark sexy stories, read on and enjoy!Happy reading,~ Tabby x

Going
Underground

“STOP!” His barked
order echoed loudly in the gloomy half-light of the underground garage.

She had just
lifted her hand and was about to press the button on the remote to unlock her
BMW, but stopped. Something in his tone of voice had caused her to obey
immediately. His orders always had this effect on her, although she didn’t know
why. In the beginning, not long after they had met, she had occasionally tried
to resist him, but it hadn’t taken long before she’d stopped doing that. Not
just because he was always quick to make her regret her disobedience, but also
because she soon realized that she didn’t really want to.

“Turn around.”

Another curt
order, and she felt the tingling between her legs. It wasn’t the first time
that evening, for she had known that this was coming—in fact, she had been
looking forward to it—but it was the first time since the end of the
performance. They had been to the theater and watched an opera. She loved doing
things like that with him. Even though he was a mechanic, he had a real feel
for the finer things in life, and had seemed to enjoy letting the music wash
over him while he controlled the vibrating egg he’d had her insert in the
ladies’ room during the break after the second act.

She had assumed
her orgasm during the crescendoing finale had signaled the end of the evening.
The applause had led to a standing ovation, and she had hunkered down in her
seat while she came hard, smiling inwardly at the sensation that the entire
audience had risen to their feet to applaud her climax. But now it seemed as
though he had something else planned for her, so she turned, slowly, to face
him, still clutching her car keys.

“I want you to
lift your skirt,” he said, and smiled at her. The smile could almost have been
genuine, if it had reached his eyes. Instead, they held a hard glint which made
her shiver. She knew him well enough by now to know that he was serious, he
would not accept any disobedience, and that no matter what she did next, it had
better involve lifting her skirt.

She let both hands
fall to her sides, took the hem of her skirt, and lifted it slowly.

“Really? Here?” she
asked, looking around. They were in the car park underneath the theatre, which
was already almost completely empty. Once the opera had ended, they had enjoyed
a glass of champagne at the bar, and so had avoided the post-performance exodus
of attendees leaving. She had thought it a coincidence, but now she realized he
had planned it that way.

The garage was
empty enough that there wasn’t too much of a risk of being seen doing whatever
it was he intended to do, but she had nothing to hide behind, and the smallest
noise echoed loudly throughout the entire level. So there probably wouldn’t be
any onlookers, but if there were, they would get the show of their lives—and it
would be something completely different to the classy opera they had just
enjoyed. What was about to happen would undoubtedly also be exciting, but a lot
darker.

She lifted her
skirt higher, suddenly becoming acutely aware of how exposed she was. Her mound
was shaved bare, she wasn’t wearing any panties, and she wondered whether he
could already tell. For what seemed like an eternity, he let her just stand there,
in her expensive evening wear, the stockings, the high heels, and with her
naked pussy on display.

“Throw the keys
away,” he ordered her, and she looked at him, shocked.

“I can’t—” she
began, but didn’t get any further.

“You can, and you
will,” he said, and she knew he was right.

“Where to?” she
asked.

“There, in the
corner,” he replied, pointing to a wall about ten meters away from where she
was standing. She glanced at him once more, but he merely nodded.

“And you will,” he
repeated.

The keys made a
loud noise when they hit the wall, and then a slightly softer one when they
slid to the ground. But not soft enough,
you can hear everything that goes on here, she thought. I’d better be quiet. And yet, even as
she thought it, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Now come over
here, but make sure I can see your cunt the entire time.” He lifted a hand in
invitation and waved her over.

That small gesture
had something so self-assured, so dominant about it that she couldn’t believe
anyone in the world would have been able to resist. She certainly couldn’t. She
never could. She started to move until she was standing directly in front of
him. He caressed her cheek.

“Did you enjoy the
opera?” he asked in a gentle voice.

“Yes, very much,”
she whispered.

“You know that up
there, we were in your world, right?”

She nodded. Yes,
she knew it, and she also knew what was coming next.

“But now we’re in
my world, and you also know what that means.” His voice was suddenly rough, far
less gentle than it had been when they had been upstairs, where he’d passed her
champagne to sip and opened doors for her.

She nodded again.

“Then I want you to
take off your coat, your skirt and your blouse.”

She looked around
again, but even as she did so, her hands dropped almost automatically to her
sides and pulled the hem of her skirt down with them. Her pussy was now covered
once more, but only briefly, as she quickly let the skirt drop to the ground
and stepped out of it. Her coat was also easy to take off, despite the fact
that she was removing the last possible protection from prying eyes. But as she
reached for the buttons on her blouse, her fingers began to tremble and she
started to panic, fumbling.

“Is there a
problem?” he asked, in a mildly amused voice.

“No,” she said,
and tried even more emphatically to get the first button through the hole.

She heard the slap
even before she felt it, although her cheek began to burn almost immediately.

“You’re not to lie
to me,” he said, pushing her hand away. “Here, I’ll help you.” With one single,
strong tug, he ripped open her blouse to expose her black bra.

She had bought it
that very morning, especially for him. It was one of those peephole bras which
left the nipples exposed. He gave an appreciative whistle at the sight of it,
before grabbing her hair and yanking her face towards him until it was mere
inches away from his.

Not the other way
around; he wouldn’t come to her, she had to come to him, she thought briefly.

“This evening is
going to end in an extremely dirty way, and I mean that as figuratively as I
mean it literally.” His tongue entered her mouth, and she accepted it gladly.
He could do whatever he wanted with her, she would obey, the way she always
did. The way she always would, for wasn’t that the reason why they were there?
She couldn’t even remember the name of the opera—she thought it was something
by Verdi—but this moment, in which she was helplessly and vulnerably exposed to
him, was one she would never forget.

“Open my zipper
and then pull my belt out of its loops,” he said, and she did as she was told.
It was a lot easier than trying to undo her buttons had been. She was calm now,
for she knew what was coming. First he would hurt her, and then he would take
what was his.

She gave him the
belt and took a step back, just as he had taught her. “And now?” she asked.

He pointed to one
of the parking lots. “Go over there and get on all fours,” he said.

She did as she was
told. The ground was covered in oil, and the smell of petrol was especially
strong. It wasn’t a smell from her world; no designer had created it, and no
woman would squirt it behind her ears to seduce her husband or lover—but that
was exactly why she loved it. It was his smell; it was hard, metallic, honest.
She was kneeling in oil, it smelled of petrol, and in a moment he would really,
really hurt her, she knew that. For the briefest of seconds, everything inside
her rebelled against his treatment of her, but then her pussy took over. You want this, it seemed to say, you need it, and you will get it. Can’t you
feel how wet I am?

She wanted to ask
him the same question. Did he know how wet she was? How much her body had been
craving him over this past week? She had just drawn breath to ask him when she
felt the belt slowly stroke over the naked skin of her ass. That was the
signal; she would be receiving the first stroke within the next few seconds. He
didn’t talk much while he was beating her, she knew that, and so they had
developed a kind of nonverbal communication—one she could easily live with.
Stroking the spot he was about the strike with the belt was just an example of
that, so she tensed her body and he took that as his sign.

His first stroke
landed perfectly across both her buttocks, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
The echo in the car park was enormous, and it seemed as though the sound of
leather striking her naked skin was amplified a thousand fold.

The second stroke
landed on her left cheek, the third on her right, the fourth once again on her
left, and soon he had found his rhythm. Over and over again his belt cracked
against her bare skin, and it wasn’t long before her backside was burning hot.
Her neck was relaxed, her head hanging down, making it easier for her to inhale
the scent of oil, and even though she was arching her back, she was low enough
to the ground for her nipples to be touching the cold concrete. During it all,
she was acutely aware of the picture she would present to anyone who happened
to come out of the elevator just a few meters away. A man in a suit, belting an
almost naked woman who was kneeling in the dirt—and she never wanted it to end.

That was the
thought she needed in order to surrender completely and she began to moan, more
loudly with every stroke. She no longer cared how bad the echo was, she was no
longer aware of anything except that combination of pleasure and pain. She no
longer counted, she no longer thought… she just melted.

Not until he
stopped belting her did she return to some semblance of consciousness. She
heard him drop the belt, heard the metal buckle hit the hard, cold concrete
with a clang.

“You know what’s
coming next,” he said from behind her.

And of course he
was right; she knew, she was looking forward to it. Her hands moved back to
grasp her backside, spreading her cheeks for him, as far apart as she could.
She wanted him deep inside her. Now.

She was unable to
suppress her smile, and pushed back a little further, opening herself a little
wider.

“It looks like you
can hardly wait,” he said, and she heard him getting into position behind her.

The tip of his
cock found the center of her ass and he slowly began to push his way inside.

By now her face
was pressed to the ground, her cheek resting on the concrete, in all the oil
and dirt, and she felt her asshole willingly expand to accommodate his girth as
he pushed deeper, deeper. Then he began to move rhythmically, slowly at first,
then faster. His left hand was gripping her hip while he buried his right in
her hair, wrapping it around his fist. He pulled on it hard, using it to steady
himself while he fucked her ass, harder and harder.

She put her palms
on the ground and used them to support herself, pushing her hips back, trying
to get him to go even deeper. She could feel the oil dripping from her cheek
and could only imagine what she looked like; with smeared make-up, torn
stockings, and smudges of dirt on her face. But all she wanted was more—even
deeper, even harder, even dirtier.

She was his little
whore, she knew that, and she would fulfill his every fantasy. She told him so.
She told him how her pussy had been wet for him all evening. She begged him
loudly to fuck her even harder, her ass was his ass, he should take it and
destroy it if he so chose. She was his slut, his cunt, his fucktoy, and he
should come deep inside her to show her to whom she belonged. She would always
be his, and would do anything he asked her to. She moaned, she gasped, and she
screamed. And she came. Oh, god, how she came. Shudders wracked her body, her
eyes widened, she was aware of every single sensation. The smell of dirt, oil
and petrol was everywhere, it filled her completely, and in that moment, she
knew she had never smelled anything better.

Then he came, too,
and she felt it. His hand tightened in her hair, he pushed his pelvis hard up
against her, and his cock pulsed and spurted inside her. They came together,
almost simultaneously, and suddenly she felt the hot liquid deep inside her ass
even as he kept on thrusting and she spasmed around him.

She had done it,
she had been a good girl again, and satisfied him. That was the only reason why
she had gone there that evening. What a wonderful, what an amazing feeling it
was. She collapsed to the ground and ruined what remained of her clothing, but
she didn’t care. She had known he would take it—all of it. And that she would
give it to him.

Still breathing
heavily, he leaned over her back, his mouth close to her ear. “You’re mine,” he
growled.

“I’m yours,” she
replied with a smile.

A short while
later, they were in the car, driving up the ramp. Once they reached the top,
she was about to put the parking ticket in the slot to open the barrier when he
opened his door and got out. “Where are you going?” she asked, but he merely
gestured for her to wait and went to the booth.

He knocked at the
window, and she saw the parking attendant jump—he had been engrossed in his
newspaper.

“Oh, it’s you,”
the attendant said, “have you finished?”

“Yes,” said her
companion, “could I now please have the surveillance tape?” He reached into his
back pocket and took out his wallet.

“Of course,” the
attendant said, “level one, lot eighty-one, right? Here you go.” He handed over
a CD and received several banknotes in return. “Thanks,” he added, and went
right back to his newspaper.

As they left the
car park, she turned to him with a questioning look. He noticed her expression
and smiled. “You didn’t really think I’d miss that opportunity, did you? I was
here earlier today, at around lunchtime, and gave him instructions. You know
how much I love to see you lying in the dirt.”

She was unable to
stop herself from returning his grin. “Do you think he saw any of it?”

“Not only that,”
he said, “I suspect he was making two recordings at the same time. Now take the
next exit on the left. I have another small surprise for you.”

7 September 2016

Having known nothing but heartbreak and
betrayal in Culpepper Cove, Callie Smith seeks refuge at The Red Petticoat Saloon. To the young widow’s utter shock, on her first night working upstairs,
former love interest Pastor Lawrence Black bids an ungodly amount of money for
an evening with her. After his dominant lovemaking leaves her breathless, he
stuns her with a marriage proposal. But how can a soiled dove become a pastor’s
wife? Despite her stubborn refusal, he insists she’s now his wife-in-truth and
returns night after night, not allowing any other men to touch her.

As time goes on, Callie finds it
increasingly difficult to ignore her growing feelings for the stern but kind,
handsome widower who issues firm commands in the bedroom and doesn’t hesitate
to spank her bare bottom when she disobeys. Truth is, she’d be proud to call
Lawrence her husband, but surely her reputation would hinder his calling to
become the town pastor. Will he succeed in convincing Callie she’s meant to be
his wife?

The moment his tongue darted over her pink, gleaming parts, Callie
jolted beneath him and her hands flew to his head. She gripped him and groaned,
while moving her hips up and down, seeking her pleasure.

The naughty girl.

He pulled back from her center and gave her a stern look.

Her eyes went wide and she immediately returned her hands above her
head, but it was too late. She’d disobeyed his instructions, and now he had to
punish her for it. Of course, he would be lying if he said part of him hadn't
hoped she would disobey.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

His cock hardened every time she called him sir. God, what a
beauty she was. And so goddamn sweet. She didn’t belong here. After tonight, he
would take her away. He would keep her in his cabin and they would return to
town when the circuit judge passed through, when she could legally become his
wife. He felt his nostrils flaring with the possession he felt for this sweet
young woman.

He moved to sit on the side of the bed, patted his thigh, and gave
her another stern look. “You disobeyed, Callie, and you will be punished for
it. Over my lap.”

All the color drained from her face, and he realized that she hadn’t
protested his use of her given name this time. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed.

“You’re going to spank me?”

“Yes. I told you to keep still, and I also told you to keep your
hands out of the way, above your head. You were a naughty girl, and now I
intend to redden your cute little bottom and teach you a lesson, Callie.”

When she placed herself across his thighs, she gasped as he forced
her legs wide apart.

“I want a view of your wet folds as I’m spanking you, Callie. You’ll
keep yourself spread just like this,” he said, shifting her bottom higher on
his lap.

Arousal escaped down her thigh, and his excitement rose at the
knowledge that she was enjoying this as much as him. She gave another needy
moan. She was breathing hard and every few seconds a shudder jolted through
her. He cupped her bottom and gave it a squeeze.

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About Me

Hi, I'm Tabitha Black and I love to write books where the men are strong, dominant and sexy, and the girls (who are usually equally strong) are loved, cherished, protected and disciplined.

Welcome to my little blog and feel free to check back often for insights, recommendations, announcements and general stuff. I also really appreciate feedback, questions and comments so please... don't be shy!